Christmas Rush
by Lonestarr
Summary: The best holiday gifts don't always come from stores.


Disclaimer: If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times: I don't own "The Fairly Oddparents" (Butch Hartman and Nickelodeon)...but if I did, it would no longer be airing. If you love something, set it free.

(...the Turner's living room...December 23rd...)

The family is gathered around the table. Timmy and Mrs. Turner sit on the couch, while Mr. Turner sits in a chair. On the table is a hat.

Mrs. Turner stands up and clears her throat. "As we all know, Christmas is only a couple of days away. And we have...let's say, not-so-strong relationships with the people in our town. So, in the spirit of the season, I've decided that we ought to get out there and deliver some cheer to the people."

The males look at the hat, filled with slips of paper.

"Hey, I've been looking for that derby...honey, you don't mean...?"

"Yes, I do." She raises the hat. "We're playing Secret Santa!"

A pair of groans are offered in response.

"Mom, do we have to do this?"

"Yeah, do we have to?"

Timmy and his father knew that the citizens of Dimmsdale were a little...eccentric, and the thought of having to find a good gift for them was off-putting, to say the least.

"Yes, we do. I want us to have a higher profile in the eyes of this town."

"Then can't we just rent a billboard?"

Ignoring her husband, the woman presents the hat to her son. "You go first, Timmy."

The boy reaches his hand into the topper and rifles around. Who knows? He might end up choosing A.J. or Chester; they were easy to shop for. Maybe, he'd pick - bestill his ten-year-old heart - Trixie.

He pulls out a slip. He opens it and his face falls as he reads the name: "'Tootie'? Can I pick again?"

"No, sweetie. You can only pick once." The woman reaches her hand into the derby. She pulls out a piece and unfolds it. "'Doug Dimmadome'."

"But, mom, Tootie's so creepy."

"Oh, she's not so bad." The woman knew of her son's classmate from his occasional rants about her behavior. "She's just a little overexcited is all."

As Mrs. Turner speaks, Mr. Turner reaches his hand in and pulls out a name: 'Dinkleburg'. He grimaces at it and looks at his wife. The man pretends to cough and crumples up the slip, tossing it into the hat. He pulls out another slip: 'Catman'.

"...it's not like you're being asked to move in with her. Just get her a nice gift."

The man clears his throat. "Well, looks like I'm shopping for Catman."

"Then, it's settled. Tomorrow, we'll head to the mall and start shopping."

(...Timmy's bedroom...an hour later...)

"I can't believe this." The ten-year-old paces frantically. "Of all the people to have to buy a gift for..."

Wanda attempts to float as fast as he walks. "Timmy, you shouldn't be like this. After all, it's Christmas."

Timmy stops and sighs deeply. "I guess you're right, Wanda."

"You just need to figure out what Tootie would want."

"But what could I get for a hyperactive girl?", the boy inquires with outstretched arms.

"I'm not too sure." Wanda turns to her husband. "Cosmo, what...?"

Through the entirety of the conversation, the green-haired fairy was buried in a book. She puts her hands on her hips.

"What are you reading?"

Cosmo closes the book on one finger ("Ouch!") and reads the cover. "Morse Code for Nitwits".

Timmy scratches his head. "And why would you want to know about morse code?"

He opens the book back to its place. "In case it ever came up."

The pink-haired fairy rolls her eyes somewhat.

(...another living room...twenty minutes later...)

Stockings hang by the chimney with care. A Christmas tree stands in the living room decorated with lights, bulbs, and any number of ornaments collected over the years, be they purchased or homemade.

Underneath the tree are many presents, most with the same red and green wrapping. One of them is adjusted by a red-haired man, stubble dotting his face.

He takes a few steps back. "Well, there it is, everyone. Our Christmas tree."

The dark-haired woman leans on the man next to her. "Oh, honey. It looks beautiful."

The teenager in the chair doesn't seem to care one way or another. "Yeah, real nice. Can we possibly wrap this up? I have...things to do."

"Vicky!", the woman snaps. Her expression softens as she looks to the dark-haired little girl. "And what do you think, Virginia?"

"It's all right." The shrug she gives combined with the flatness of her response suggests that her heart is not in the spirit as much as one would hope.

The woman glances at her daughter, who heads up the stairs. She could tell from the look on the girl's face that pressing the issue further would be unwise.

(...Virginia's bedroom...five minutes later...)

Colored lights strewn throughout the room blink on and off. The pigtailed girl is on her knees beside her bed. Her hands are clasped in prayer.

"Lord, I know I don't do this as often as I ought to, but that's because I think things are going all right in my life. Vicky gives me a hard time, sure, but I'm not worried about that now. Perhaps, you could help me."

The door of her room opens a bit. Her mom peeks her head in. The woman moves her lips to speak, but stops at seeing her daughter.

"It's nice that I'll be getting presents for Christmas, but those don't matter to me..."

The woman stands in the doorway, tears in her eyes. Maybe it was that she was moved by her daughter's prayer...or that the one thing the girl really wanted would not be underneath the tree on Christmas morning.

(...the mall...December 24th...)

The place is packed. One would think that, by now, people would have their holiday shopping completed.

Mrs. Turner looks around. "Timmy?" She turns behind her. "Timmy!" Her voice holds more worry than the first time.

"Down here."

The woman looks to her son and sighs. What she wouldn't give for a growth spurt of some kind...any kind.

"Oh. Thank goodness."

"I'm going to look in that place that sells that girly stuff." The store's name escapes the boy, and it could mean less to him. Under no circumstances would he think about going to a place like that.

"All right." Mrs. Turner points to a bench. "We'll meet back there in an hour." The two of them take off in different directions.

(...the upper level...twenty minutes later...)

Timmy wanders around, with a green winter hat on his head and a pink scarf around his neck.

"Well, I tried that girly place, but there was nothing. Even if I was a girl, there wouldn't have been anything good there."

The smiling face of the hat perks up. "Perhaps if you _were_ a girl--"

"Forget it! I just need to think of something else."

Timmy passes through a long line of children with their parents. He turns back around and sees a North Pole display. It is a line to see Santa. Even if he had time to get to the front, the boy was pretty convinced he'd get what he wanted for Christmas.

His eyes are drawn to the girl who gets up on Santa's lap. "Tootie?" He ducks down, in the hope that she doesn't see him. A confident look appears on Timmy's face.

"Maybe I can find out what she wants." He peeks through the crowd.

"And what would you like for Christmas, little lady?"

The brunette takes a breath. "There's only one thing I want for Christmas, and that's..."

Timmy feels himself being moved away from the display. He looks around and finds himself swept away by the crowd of shoppers. "Wait! No!"

(...the pet shop...)

The place resides on a street in town; the kind of out-of-the-way business that one might overlook were it not for its direct advertising: "Pets of Dimmsdale - Everyone Likes Animals!"

Mr. Turner glances at a clear plastic cage. All there is within is a bunch of leaves and wood shavings. A pile of shavings begins to shake. Out of it emerges a gecko.

The lizard's red eyes focus on the man. He can't help but stare back.

"Um, can I help you, sir?" Mr. Turner faces the person asking the question: a young man with a cracking voice.

"Yes. What would you recommend for a superhero based on a cat?"

"Shopping for Catman, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Well, there's a good chance you'll find something at Wall 2 Wall Mart. That's usually where he gets his litterboxes. They're a pretty good size."

"Uh, thanks." Mr. Turner walks out of the store. He is, at once, happy that he has a solid gift suggestion and uneasy that the employee would know what kind of litterbox Catman uses.

(...near the food court...thirty minutes later...)

There are stores in the mall that sell practically everything: designer clothing, kitchen wear, CDs, sporting goods, fancy posters, DVDs, collectable plush toys, electronic equipment and novelty gag items.

For the brown-haired woman resting in a chair, nothing seems right. If only she'd picked someone relatively easy to shop for instead of the man who has everything.

(...the Turner's home...twenty minutes later...)

Mrs. Turner sits on the living room couch. The trip had not gone as well as she had hoped. She looks up at the door to Timmy's room.

The woman couldn't help but feel a little disappointed...mainly in her son. She only had to think of what to get for the richest man in town. All Timmy had to do was get a present for a girl of significantly more modest means.

She exhales deeply and outstretches her arms on the couch.

(...Wall 2 Wall Mart...)

Mr. Turner peruses the aisles at the superstore. He looks up at the items on the shelves. There are big jars of mayonnaise. He shakes his head; this is definitely not the right aisle.

He turns the corner and bumps into a blonde-haired young woman in a navy blue shirt. "Excuse me, uh..." He reads her name tag: "Nancy. Could you tell me where the litterboxes are?"

"Oh, yes." She points her finger behind him. "They're in aisle 22."

"Thank you." The man rushes in the direction of her finger.

(...the living room...five minutes later...)

Mrs. Turner notices Timmy heading for the door. He wears the same green hat and pink scarf. "Where are you headed?"

"Just going for a walk to clear my head."

"Okay, but don't be out too late."

(...the streets...moments later...)

_"The sun sets earlier this time of year."_

Timmy knows about that all too well. Though the temperature had dropped significantly in the last few weeks, one couldn't readily tell that it was winter. He glances around. Still the same old snowless ground.

The snow was a big part of winter, particularly the Holiday season. During vacation, Timmy loves to go outside and play. Making snowmen and snow angels are two favorite activities.

Timmy walks down the street. He finds himself in front of a house with flashing lights in the window.

The boy can't help but feel curious as he walks to the window. He sees a red-haired man hang a bit of mistletoe from the ceiling near the stairs. The man gives a kiss to a dark-haired woman. Timmy grimaces and sticks his tongue out. There are some things he doesn't need to see.

He looks through the other side of the window. A look of great surprise registers on his face.

(...the living room...)

Vicky sits on the couch scowling at her parents' affection. Next to her is Tootie. Her hands are folded and judging by her expression, her mood hasn't much changed from last night.

"Isn't it wonderful, kids?" Neither of the girls answer their father.

"Well, I think it's nice."

Vicky throws her hands up. "But what's the point of mistletoe? Just the two of you will be getting all kissy."

"Victoria, mistletoe isn't just for romance kissing. It can show that two people care for each other."

The red-headed girl grimaces and sticks her tongue out. Vicky is not one for great affection.

Tootie gazes at the plant overhead and sighs deeply. Timmy cocks his head, almost like he feels her pain.

(...outside the window...)

"Oh, man. I really ought to help her out."

Wanda unravels from Timmy's neck and, with a 'poof' appears before him in her fairy form. "Do you know what you want to do?"

"Maybe he could wish for lots of stuff and have her pick something."

"No. It's Christmas, so this should be really special; something she'd really enjoy. I owe her that much. I wish I could know what Tootie wanted for Christmas."

The boy disappears from the front lawn.

(...a pink room...)

Timmy opens his eyes. In color and design, it very much resembles a girl's bedroom. There's a bed with a canopy over it and curtains at the side. There's a writing desk with a pink book on it. A pair of televisions sit on twin TV trays. Posters hang on the walls, mainly of musicians.

His eyes focus on a picture hanging on the wall opposite the bed. The picture is of a girl with long dark hair. Her vibrant eyes hide behind a pair of cat's eye glasses. Her outfit consists of a white shirt, black vest and plaid skirt.

The boy squints at the picture. His eyes widen. He rushes over to the desk. The book reads: 'My Life (So Far)'. He opens it to the middle and finds, in neat handwriting:

_This is gonna be the worst Christmas ever. I just know I'm not gonna get what I really want. Sometimes, it's not a matter of 'want'; I really need this. I..._

"Virginia! Time for dinner!" A woman's voice. The televisions turn on. The boy stumbles around. He falls onto the floor.

He shakes his head. He puts his hands on the floor and lifts himself up. He stares at the television sets. The program being broadcast looks like Vicky. She looks quite sulky tonight; probably suffering torture withdrawal. Wait, Vicky...and a dinner table...

"I'm in Tootie's head!"

(... the Turner's living room...)

Mrs. Turner glares at the paper-filled derby on the coffee table. "Oh, what kind of dumb idea was this? Secret Santa!" She kicks the table, which causes the hat to roll off toward her. It falls in such a way that it leans on the leg of the table. She lets out a gasp.

She stands up. "That's it!"

(...Wall 2 Wall Mart...five minutes later...)

Mr. Turner pushes a shopping cart. In the cart is a red litterbox so big, he has to dart his head around it to see where he's going.

"This Secret Santa thing was a great idea!" In his elation, he bumps against a woman.

She turns around. "Excuse me!"

"Oh. Sorry about that." Mr. Turner ducks his head to the left. There are fifteen people ahead of him. He looks to the other registers. The situation is much the same.

With a groan, he rears his head back.

(...the living room...ten minutes later...)

Tootie stands at the Christmas tree. She sees a number of gifts underneath. Some of them have the tag 'To: Tootie - From:..." with the last name reading Mom, Dad or Vicky.

She turns away from the presents and walks upstairs.

Her parents exchange worried looks. Her mother gets up from the couch and follows.

(...the pink room...)

Timmy watches the sets and sees the stairs moving from top to bottom. "I must be going upstairs."

(...Tootie's room...)

The bespectacled girl sits slumped over on her bed. There's a knock at the door.

"May I come in?"

No response.

The woman walks to the bed and takes a seat. "Tootie...Virginia. This is Christmas. You're with family. You ought to be happy."

"I know that, but...I like him so much."

(...the pink room...)

The words reverberate in the enclosure. Timmy's eyes widen.

(...Tootie's room...)

The woman hugs her daughter close. "Honey, when I was a girl, there was this boy in my class I really liked." The woman rocks the girl slightly. "He wasn't much to look at, but he was so nice. I wanted to get to know him better, so you know what I did?"

"What?"

"I made him a card. No special occasion; just something to let him know how I felt."

"And then what happened?"

"I gave him the card and...he became scared of me; that I'd poured so much energy into getting him to notice me. The basic message is the harder you work on winning someone over, the less successful you'll be."

Tootie looks into her mother's eyes. "So, I should just stop trying?", she says with a pout.

"No. You should stop trying so hard. Things will work out at their own pace." The woman walks out and shoots a smile at her daughter.

Tootie hops over to the other side of her bed and assumes a praying position.

"Dear Lord, there was something I really wanted for Christmas, and that was for Timmy to come over and spend time with me. If it happens, that's nice and if it doesn't...then that's good, too. I have a lot to be thankful for already. Sorry if I sounded greedy before. Amen."

Tootie stands up and dusts herself off.

(...the pink room...)

Timmy sighs as he looks at the screens. He looks to the book on the desk.

He walks over and opens it. He flips through it. Every other page reads: _I had a wonderful dream: Timmy...I saw Timmy again today. I wish...Timmy...Timmy..._

He continues until he reaches a page near the beginning.

_My first day of kindergarten. I wish I had someone to talk to; someone who would be nice to me. Who's this boy with a pink hat? He said 'hello' to me. I want to get to know him._

He puts the book down. "I guess I know what Tootie wants now...and I'm gonna give it to her!"

He takes a look around. "Now how do I get out of here?"

(...the mall...twenty minutes later...)

Mrs. Turner manuevers through the crowd, a determined look on her face. The idea had come fairly easy to her.

She walks into a little store at the end of the building: Nice Rack. With its location and small size, the owners had no trouble worrying about changing the name.

(...Wall 2 Wall Mart...five minutes later...)

Mr. Turner slumps over his cart. There were several obstacles to getting out of there sooner: people paying with credit, mis-swiped gift cards and one elderly lady paying with five dollars of pennies. There were a number of people behind him, but what harm could it do in taking a little nap? Whenever the line would move, he'd be nudged along.

He takes notice of the person in front of him. She walks past the register and out the front door. Hey, that would mean...

"I'm next!" He throws his hands in the air and pushes his cart forward.

(...outside Nice Rack...)

Mrs. Turner steps out of the store. Under her arm is a hand-carved wooden hat rack with gold-plated knobs and a mirror in the center. The woman knew that, from his numerous appearances, Doug Dimmadome always wore a hat. So she figured, he'd need a hat rack.

'It's not the most extravagant gift', she thought, but maybe...

A male voice crackles over the P.A. system: _Attention: thank you for shopping at Dimmsdale Mall. We'll be closing in five minutes. Get out now, and Happy Holidays._

...maybe he'll like it.

(...the pink room...)

The room, something of a metaphor for Tootie's mind, is almost always neat and tidy. Now, it was something of a mess.

Timmy flips up the bed sheets. There's nothing there. He tosses the linen against the headboard.

The boy hops onto the bed and lands on the other side. "What the heck am I gonna do?"

He takes a step and trips over a cord. There are a series of them - five to be exact - extending to the left of the closet television. He glances over and sees another grouping of cords to the right of the further television.

Timmy stares quizzically at the wires. "I wonder..."

He grabs two of the closer wires and cracks them like a whip.

(...the living room...)

Tootie sits on the floor. Her middle and fore fingers on her left hand seize a little. "Ouch!"

"What's wrong, honey?"

The girl rubs her hand. "It felt like I got a cramp in my hand."

(...the pink room...)

Timmy glances at the monitors. He jumps for joy. "It worked!" He takes a cord in hand and shakes it around. "I just hope that Cosmo and Wanda are around."

(...the living room...)

Tootie's left fore finger starts to tap on the floor.

From on the Christmas tree, a green bulb stares intently. The pink-haired angel atop the tree looks down. "Cosmo, what is it?"

"I...wish...I...was...out...of Tootie." The bulb produces a hand and waves his wand. "See, I told you morse code would come in handy."

The Wanda-ornament groans as she waves her wand.

(...outside the window...)

Timmy re-appears in the snow. He looks up at the sky. Cosmo and Wanda 'poof' beside him.

"I wish I was at home."

(...Timmy's room...)

The boy and his fairies re-appear in the bedroom.

"So, do you know what you're getting for Tootie?"

Timmy nods his head. "I do."

"But the stores are all closed."

"What I'm getting for her doesn't come from a store."

(...Timmy's room...the next morning...)

The young boy stirs a little in his bed. He smacks his lips. His bright blue eyes open a little.

He turns over to face the window. He rubs his eyes, though even with clear vision, it's hard to see outside; it's like a white blanket draped over the town. Wait, white...

"It's snowing!" The enthusiasm in his voice is too great to ignore.

(...the Turner's living room...five minutes later...)

Mr. and Mrs. Turner sit on the couch opening gifts. Timmy rushes downstairs and slides toward the tree.

"MorningMommorningDadMerryChristmas!"

He tears into a present.

"So, did you ever give Tootie her present?"

"Don't worry, Mom. I will."

The wrapping paper hits the floor in a crumpled ball.

The boy's eyes light up. "The new Crimson Chin action figure! Thanks!"

He sets it aside and heads for another present. Wrapping paper flies through the air.

(...twenty minutes later...)

Several gifts are placed in a corner of the room: the action figure, a sketch pad and colored pencls, a sweater, several pairs of socks and underwear, a couple of new video games and a new pink hat.

Timmy, is nowhere to be found, though.

Suddenly, a blur of blue and magenta zooms down the stairs. Mr. and Mrs. Turner turn to find a bundled-up Timmy at the door.

"Timmy, where are you going?"

He opens the door... "I'm gonna give Tootie her present." ...and disappears out of it.

The adults turn back around. "Well, that's nice, but did you see him holding anything?"

"No." The man scratches his head. "And where's he going to get it? The stores are all closed."

(...outside the house...five minutes later...)

Timmy had trudged three blocks to this place. He stands at the front door and takes a breath. "Well, here I go."

The boy extends a gloved hand and knocks on the door. He takes a step back.

_"Who could that be?"_

The door opens. Tootie's father looks around. "Hello?"

"Um, down here." Timmy looks up at the man.

"Oh, sorry. What is this about?"

"Well..." He tugs at his collar. "...it's about Tootie."

"Oh." He calls behind him. "Tootie! You have a visitor!"

Timmy watches as the pig-tailed girl runs to the door. "Timmy! Hello! Um, why are you here?"

"Well, I figured that'd you'd like a...friend to spend Christmas with, so..." He stretches out his arms. "Merry Christmas."

Tootie's eyes sparkle. She takes his hand. "Come on in. You must be freezing."

(...inside the house...moments later...)

"Mom, this is Timmy Turner."

The woman looks down at the smiling boy. "So you're the boy I've heard so much about."

"Well, yeah", he tells with more than a little modesty.

"And you know Vicky."

Timmy gulps a bit.

"Merry Christmas...Timmy." The teenager seldom refers to him as anything but 'twerp'. This must be the season of miracles.

Tootie takes his hands and looks him in the eyes. "Now, do you really want to spend Christmas with me?"

He looks around at the smiling faces of her family, and realizes how crushed she'd be if he said 'no'. There were times when he could be selfish, but he wasn't cruel. "Yes. Yes, I do. So, what do you want to do?"

"We could play outside; make a snowman or make snow angels."

Timmy looked at the girl; he could not have guessed that she would share his taste in winter activities.

"That sounds nice."

(...Dimmadome estate...)

A car pulls up near the mansion. Mrs. Turner gets out of the vehicle and opens the back door.

She pulls out a gift-wrapped box and totes it to the door.

(...within the estate...)

"...but this hat rack has been in my family for generations!" A balding man in a robe walks down the stairs. "I can't just toss it away, and I will not lay my best hat on some dusty table. Speaking of which, could you get someone to dust that table?"

A knock at the door interrupts the millionaire's ranting.

"Who in the world could that be on Christmas morning?"

Dimmadome opens the door. Mrs. Turner stands on the porch.

"Can I help you, Miss?"

She hands him the present. "Merry Christmas."

He takes it and starts to open it. A shocked look crosses his face. "How did you know?"

The woman shrugs. "I just had a feeling."

He lifts the hat rack slightly. "I don't know how to thank you."

"It's nothing."

"No, it's not. I'll find a way to repay you."

"But I--"

"I insist!"

"Um...okay." She turns around. The door closes.

Dimmadome holds the present up and gazes into the mirror. A smiling face greets him. "Now _this_ is a hat rack."

(...outside the house...five minutes later...)

Tootie lies in the snow and waves her arms around. Timmy extends his hand and pulls her up. She grabs onto it and stands up. He sneaks off.

"That was great. So, what do you want--"

Her statement is cut off with a snowball to the face. She looks at Timmy behind the tree. His somewhat devious look is broken with laughter. Her expression of sadness becomes one of confidence; two can play at that game.

She gathers some snow and forms a ball. She tosses it at Timmy. He moves aside before it hits.

The girl creates another snowball and hurls it. It hits the tree. The boy lunges a powder ball. Tootie dodges it. She makes a round weapon and chucks it.

Timmy gets out of the way, but slips to the ground. Tootie straightens her glasses and makes another snowball. She walks over. He tries to get up, but falls.

She stands over him. "Any last words?"

"Yeah. I'm allergic to snow?"

She drops the ball on his face. He sits up, causing most of the snow to fall off.

The girl laughs as she pulls him up. "So, how did you know that I wanted this?"

"Well...a little bird helped me out...or two, rather." He shifts his gaze to a pair of birds - one pink and the other green - huddled together on a high branch of the tree.

"How about we make a snowman?"

"All right."

(...another estate...ten minutes later...)

Mr. Turner drives up the lane. As the gift would not fit in the back seat, it was necessary to put it in the trunk. Unfortunately, it wouldn't quite fit.

He gets out of the car and heads for the trunk. He undoes the cables and takes out the wrapped present.

The man rings the bell. After some clattering and yelling from inside, the door opens.

Catman stands in the doorway. "Good day, citizen. What can Catman do for you?"

Mr. Turner hands over the gift. "Merry Christmas."

"Oh, and what's this?" The 'superhero' bares his claws, making a mess of the wrapping paper.

"A new, king-sized litterbox! Thank you, citizen."

"You're welcome, so..." Catman puts his 'paw' on the man's shoulder.

"...and know that this gift will always be appreciated. In fact, I think I'll appreciate it now."

Mr. Turner grimaces a little as the door closes.

(...the living room...five minutes later...)

Timmy sits on the floor. He glances at Tootie, who looks up at the tree. 'She seems like a good person, at least when she's not chasing after me.', he thinks to himself.

"Hey!"

The boy's train of thought is derailed. He looks up at the source of the call.

Vicky looks off. "I...uh...I got you something." She hands him a small present. He unwraps it.

"A watch? Thank you, but why?"

The red-headed girl shrugs. "Hey, it's Christmas. But next year, look out."

Timmy exhales. "Okay", he responds haltingly.

The boy walks off and puts on the watch. He stares at it admiringly. Tootie gets up and goes to him.

"Is everything all right?"

"Yeah, everything's fine. It's just that...I didn't really expect...you seem so anxious whenever I'm around, and now, you're so calm."

"Timmy, I can get a little...hyper, but we're just kids. My mom says that I'll grow out of it. My life might turn out better or worse."

"Well, it might not be so bad having you in my life. You seem really nice."

"I am nice. That's what I was hoping you'd understand."

He gives her a hug. She returns it.

"Oh! Look who's under the mistletoe!" Tootie's mother gazes at the children.

"I'll get the camera." The girl's father gets up from the chair.

Timmy shrugs. "I guess we should."

"It is tradition, after all." Tootie blushes a little.

The boy puckers his lips...and before he can turn around, the pig-tailed girl plants a kiss on his cheek. A bright flash confirms that the moment is captured on film.

"Merry Christmas, Timmy."

He smiles at her. "Merry Christmas, Tootie."

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A/N: I just figured...why not write a FOP Christmas story? The basic idea started with the holiday and Timmy inside Tootie's head. The fic built itself from there. A lot of you will probably notice that this isn't much like the show. Good. That's what I was shooting for. Think of this as a cross between FOP and a John Hughes movie (like _Christmas Vacation _or _Planes, Trains and Automobiles_ - a classic).

Don't forget to review and have a merry...whatever.


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